Repairs
by lukeisfrakkinsexxxy
Summary: Set two weeks post "Moving On", House returns to the scene of the damages he left. Cuddy is a mess, Wilson is outraged and yet, House couldn't be worse off than both of them put together. He knows he has to make everything right, especially with her.
1. Returning to the Damages

It was big. Not Cuddy's ass, he already knew that was big. The hole he made. Not only in her house, but in her heart too.

He watched as she and Rachel made their way to her car with a suitcase in hand. Why had he done this? _'This is not how you woo her back to you, idiot,' _he thought. He bit his lip and sighed.

Cuddy opened the door for her daughter and buckled her in. She closed the door and made her way to the trunk, dropping the luggage in the back. As she closed the trunk, she found herself staring at the tarp that shielded the rest of the living room from harm.

She stared hard at the broken home that in essence reflected her heart. He did this. She never thought he was capable of _real_ harm. She was lucky he hadn't hit anyone; otherwise she would've instinctively run at him, his neck more precisely. She would've killed him.

House had bought a new car. He got rid of his bike and his old beater and opted for a newer piece of shit. His phone sat quietly on his lap as his eyes scanned the damage he had done. It had been days since anyone had tried to get a hold of him. Wilson stopped calling last night and it had been almost a week since any of his team tried to reach him. He wasn't used to this kind of quiet. Nobody knew he had returned to Princeton yet, and he wasn't about to let anybody know.

Cuddy hung her head for a moment, rubbing her forehead. There was nothing she could do about the house now or about House for that matter. The cops hadn't found him yet and he hadn't tried to make contact. She lifted her head and took a deep breath. She knew it didn't matter anyways. This was his point. He was so shattered and had fallen so hard that nothing mattered.

She made her way to the driver's seat and started the car. Cuddy backed out of the driveway and nothing made her sadder than when she pulled away. She wasn't letting anything go, she just knew nothing would be the same when she would return after the renovation/repair. No, it is a renovation. She was rebuilding her life, not only her home but herself and Rachel, too. That night, everything had changed.

He watched her pull away and shook his head. He, Greg House, had messed up any chance he had at happiness that day he rashly, jealously, and angrily blasted through her home, her heart. He hadn't even thought of his little Cuddy-buddy when he did that.

The week he left town to Cancun, he slammed back shot after shot of tequila trying to numb the pain and hurt he had done to himself. Regret, humiliation, guilt, anger and rage filled his addict-self as he put away every ounce of alcohol Juan, his enabling beach bartender, put in front of him. He hadn't done anything like this since Mayfield, at least at this level. It only took a day before he found a place he could get Vicodin. His month supply was gone in less than a day. He was high as a kite that Wednesday and didn't come down until Thursday night as he found himself grabbing his leg in pain. He reached for the phone and had almost dialed Cuddy but then caught himself. He hadn't cried yet, but at that point he finally let his emotions take over. He couldn't numb them for any longer.

Now he was back to face the real demons, the ones he had created out of frustration. He got out of the car and pulled a note out of his pocket as he approached her mailbox. He placed it inside and shut it. He limped, every step excruciating, back to his car across the street. This was his first of what he knew were going to be many attempts at trying to get Cuddy to at least look at him. He pulled away from his spot on the curb and followed her.

"Momma, are we gonna see Hows today?" Rachel asked Lisa as they entered the hospital.

"No, sweetie. House isn't here anymore. Remember? He moved," Cuddy lied.

"I thought you said Hows was gone for a trip?" She knew her kid was smart, but that memory was going to bite Cuddy in the ass again soon.

"No, he left." Cuddy tried to shield her daughter from her hurt eyes with a reassuring smile.

"Mommy, don't be mad at Hows. Sometimes he's just a bloody scallywag but he doesn't mean it. Like when I don't finish my broccoli." She tried to persuade Cuddy. '_God, House_. _My daughter defends you like you're her dad. Damm you, House—and That cartoon.' _

"He's just done some really bad things. I don't want to be mad at him, it's just hard not to be, okay Rachel?"

"Do you still love Hows?" Rachel asked as they walked through doors to Cuddy's office. She sat on her couch.

"Yes." She still cared for him. She always would. "But for now, he's not here. So let's get you to daycare, huh?" She picked up her smiling daughter and placed her on her hip, carrying her out into the lobby.

Cuddy returned to her office and dropped into her chair. Leaning back, she took out her phone. She started scanning through old photos. Rachel and House sleeping on her bed, Rachel cuddled up next to him on the couch, her asleep on House's chest, Cuddy smiling asleep. He saw everything good in her and made sure she always saw it too. Then a picture of House, asleep on his lounge chair in his office with Rachel curled upon him.

Cuddy let a tear fall. It had been almost a day since she last shed any emotion besides brokenness. She turned to her desk and dug in her desk. She pulled out her I-Pod and played her 'House' mix.

The Avett Brother's "Tear Down the House" began playing over her office speakers. She stood and walked over to her doors. She shut the door blinds and locked her door as she hit the lights. She walked over to her couch and curled up in a ball and light whimpers soon turned into sobs as the next song, "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper, started. The dribbles of tears became more like a flood as her pain poured out through a silent sob.

All that consumed his thoughts was her, Cuddy, as he pulled in front of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

He turned on his phone and began looking through photos. House had never been a sentimental man, but she made him this way. He had never cared for anyone like he had for her. Not even Stacy entranced him like Cuddy. Her ebony curls, her perfect smile and her big brown eyes. Lisa Cuddy could melt him in a second whenever he saw her, thought of her.

The song playing over his radio, "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper, reminded him of her. He remembered their dance at the conference and how sexy she looked in her Flashdance attire, super curls and all. He also recalled the look she had in her eyes as he saved her from the idiot who wanted to dance with her. They smiled at him, her big blue eyes. They weren't their normal ice blue tone though, they seemed warmer. Every time she smiled at him, they got warmer in tone. He loved that he had that effect on her. _'I really fucked up.' _House slammed his head against his steering wheel.

Wilson watched from the bench outside the courtyard of PPTH. House was quite a sight for sore eyes. Ragged and broken, more so than after his leg problems and after Stacy left him. He was truly not himself. Wilson really didn't know how to approach his best friend. He was mad at House for what he did, livid in fact. But his friends were hurting. He couldn't choose one over the other. He took a sip of water from his bottle and stood.


	2. RememberingEvaluating

"_Nothing has ever been easy with us."_

"_That's probably largely due to the malpractice suit I should've filed over my leg." _

_Cuddy snickered. "I saved your leg."_

"_True." House paused as he ran the tops of his fingers over arm. "Against your better judgment."_

"_No more deflecting." Cuddy turned onto her side, propping her head on her fist. "How are we really going to make this work? I know we've talked about it, but are you sure you're ready? I mean, has Dr. Nolan clea—" _

"_First of all, I'm not seeing Dr. Nolan anymore." House interrupted. He scooted upwards and leaned against the headboard. "Second, I am ready. I've been ready for this for a long time." His tone was sincere, almost emotional. "Lisa," he hardly ever used her first name, "I want to be with you. I __**can**__ do this." _

_Cuddy sat up and looked into his blue eyes that were so intense. She hadn't seen his eyes like that since he came to her during the Tritter incident. She knew right then that he meant business, and that business was her- and only her. _

"_Thank god." She threw herself on top of him and planted her lips to his for what seemed to be an eternity. It wasn't a searching kiss, but a prolonged sensual experience, deep and more than meaningful than anything either of them had experienced before. _

_In that moment they were merging their lives together with each twist of their heads to match the rhythm of the other, remaining in perfect harmony._

Cuddy let the memory fall away as she wiped tears from her eyes. They were no longer together, no longer one. This separation of a melded life together wasn't only discouraging but devastating. She had never felt like this. 'Only he could make me feel like this.' But then she remembered how much he really did care. She really shouldn't want him, not after what he did. But to be fair, she broke it off because he slipped to benefit her. He risked his sobriety for her.

She got up and mentally kicked herself in the ass the rest of the morning. Her paperwork went untouched for most of the time; instead, most of it went to zoning out.

By lunch, she had fallen asleep in her office chair. The phone rang. Once, twice. It kept on ringing and went to voicemail. Her assistant looked in upon the sixth ring and found Cuddy's head tipped into her chest, face wet from crying, and passed out. Riley didn't dare disturb her, not knowing if she were waking a lamb or a lion. She would let Cuddy wake up on her own.

Wilson watched House for a few moments before he made another step forward. House fished into his right pants pocket and pulled his vice. Quickly down the hatch they went, without a sip of anything. Wilson always did cringe a little bit when he did that.

House then took out his phone again and stared at it. Wilson had a pretty good idea which picture he'd been staring at for hours. But he knew if he were going to approach House, now would be the time.

Wilson moved in closer to House's vehicle and slowly hunched over to knock on his passenger window. House jumped and looked over; slightly shocked that Wilson hadn't just jumped in. He motioned to his friend, giving him the okay to climb into the vehicle.

Wilson complied, opening the door and quickly getting in. "So, Hulk get mad and then Hulk smash? Was that the basic idea?" Wilson half quipped.

House sighed. "I'm more of a Superman guy myself. But I guess, yes, the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head." House reached down to the console and lifted a can of Coke to his lips.

"Well, I think you've _really_ done it this time." Wilson statement was nothing more than a cold hard fact and House hung his head at the end of it.

"Has she said anything?" He didn't even lift his head; his voice was deflated and defeated in tone. There was none of his usual arrogance behind the question.

Wilson noticed this. "No she hasn't." Wilson sighed. "Of course she has. I think she might even forgive you for it too. Her new assistant, Riley, has been looking in on her more than usual lately. When I went into her office a few days ago, the papers had piled up, like she hadn't done any filing in at least four or five days."

House nodded. "So, you're okay?"

"Physically? Yes, a few scratches and a bruise or two, but that was it."

"Are we…"

Wilson nodded before he even finished his question. "But you owe me a new car."

House pointed to the keys. "You want Vivien? She's a beaut'." He patted the dash of his car and snickered at Wilson.

"Nope. I said new. And lunch is on you, for an entire year."

House nodded. "Fair. Cops still looking for me? You'd think they'd be able to track down a cripple a bit easier than a well-bodied assailant."

"Cuddy called off the dogs yesterday. Said she'd deal with it personally. Julia was furious with her. She told her to fuck off." House raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Cuddy said 'fuck'. Don't act so surprised. You should know that she can have quite the dirty mouth when she wants to." Wilson smiled. House was hooked.

"Not that kind of dirty… But when she was working late and needed some Little Greg, she definitely could send a dirty text message that could outdo whatever that Weiner guy sent." House smiled. "I need her back, Jimmy. I need her."

"I know."

"Help me get her back. Please?" House let his head fall to the steering wheel. "Wilson, would you please meddle and help?"

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the delay. It's been a bit depressing in my neck of the woods. Enjoy!<strong>


	3. You Can Try to Run, But You Can't Hide

Cuddy emerged from her office an hour later. She didn't look like she had been sobbing, or napping for that matter. She looked her administrator self. Not a hair was anymore askew than it would be naturally; no creases in her skirt; even her smile was there. For any patient or nurse or drug rep or donor who didn't know Cuddy anymore than in a business related sense wouldn't have been able to notice that something was suppressing her true confidence, charisma and charm. It was like she took a mask of herself from months ago and plastered it upon her true face, the one that was fragile and could crack a tear at any given time when she was alone. But for those who did, her eyes could never hide how she was really feeling.

Chase came out of exam room 4 as Cuddy made her way out towards the lobby. He watched as she opened the door to leave. It wasn't with the same vigor and determination he was used to seeing with Cuddy. They weren't close, but he knew when she wasn't acting herself. He passed off his charts to Nurse Jeffries and followed her, a bit more briskly than he thought he had needed to because he barely caught up to her. Right before the elevator doors closed, sticking his hand in between, he edged his way in smiling at her as he pressed the button. They were the only two in the small, what now seemed to be, emotional prison cell. He hesitated before nodding at her.

"Dr. Cuddy."

She gave a slight nod back and smiled. "Dr. Chase." 'I must look pretty normal,' she thought to herself.

"How're you?" his tone nonchalant, but with every hint of accidental caring behind it. He hated it when his seminary training crept up on him.

'Shit, maybe not.' She sighed. "I'm good. Are you guys managing without uh, him?"

"Uh yes. Foreman picked up right where he left off two years ago."

That made her smile. "Good. How's the patient?"

"Um. He uh took a turn for the worse last night. Pulmonary edema, but we drained the fluid and he's stable now. Taub and Thirteen are running some tests in the Cath lab with him right now. Poly-arthritis nervosa is the front-runner at the moment. Although, Foreman thinks this is the time it will be Lupus."

"It's never Lupus," Cuddy quoted.

Chase smiled lightly and nodded as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. He put his hand on her shoulder before she made a move to exit the cart. "I don't know if you'd want to or if it's even appropriate, but I am a trained seminarian if you ever want or need someone impartial to talk with, Lisa."

"Thanks, Robert. Keep me updated on the patient," she finished as she left the elevator. 'Damn it,' she thought as she put on her best administrator face and smiled as she entered the boardroom down the hall, the sound of her heels clicking fiercely echoed through the hall fading as the glass door shut behind her.

House looked over at Wilson as they drove down the freeway. "I'm fine," he stressed. "Last night… I was stupid."

"House, we established that already. I really do think that right now though you could benefit from a little time back here." Wilson said as he exited off.

"Awe, Dad!" House pleaded as he stole a glance of the backseat where his suitcase lay. He sighed. "Can't I just do some outpatient crap instead? I'm not back using heavily, well, not really anyway. It was just that 'lost' weekend at the hotel. I wasn't using when I pulled that stunt."

"Maybe not drugs, but you _weren't _using your head. Which means you weren't using your techniques. Which means you need a crash course, again." He looked over at his friend. The defeat on his face said everything his deflections and sarcasm tried to cover. "It's only a week. I bet you can come up with a good plan while you're there. And you have unlimited phone privileges," Wilson took a very basic cell phone out of his coat pocket and handed it to House. "Don't worry, I already cleared it with _her_."

House looked out the window as they passed the Lexington welcome sign. "I couldn't have gone back to Mayfield?"

"Nolan would've turned you in."

House nodded. "I haven't seen her since we broke into the locker rooms on Prom night senior year. I can't believe she remembers me."

"Remember that chick in college I told you about? The one that did that one thing?" Wilson fished.

House's eyes narrowed, a smile washing across his pained expression. "The one with the ton—," Wilson interrupted his thought with a nod. "So, that makes two chicks we've shared."

Wilson tilted his head as he made a turn. "Two?"

"Um. Remember that nurse with the red hair from pediatrics from a few years ago?"

Wilson searched his memory for a second at the stop sign. "Oh. Oh! The one that did the thing when you kissed her on that one spot?"

House smiled. "Yep."

Wilson pulled into a small driveway and parked. He turned the key, relinquishing the engine from its duty. "You'll be fine here for a few weeks or so though?" Wilson nodded towards the small white house to the side of the car. He looked at House. His face screamed of hate with a glimmer of disappointment. Wilson hung his head slightly.

"Can't I just do a bunch of clinic duty instead?" He flashed his eyes at Wilson, pleading playfully.

"She did take a fall house and she does need help."

"Oh, right. I spose I better stay then, not like I can't hire a PCA for her or something," House reasoned.

"House, she broke her leg—"

"While skiing! It's not like she was getting out of the shower like every other 75 year-old who breaks something," House stated dryly.

"She's your mother."

"Yeah, I know." House reached for his door release and opened his door. He rubbed his leg for a few seconds before he eased out of the car.

Wilson followed, watching his friend pain himself to get out of his seat. He winced as House emerged out of the vehicle, his leg still weak from the hours of driving. He looked up to the sky. It was gray and cloudy; rain was surely to fall tonight in Lexington.

Wilson shut his door and meandered to the back of his car where House was retrieving his luggage, well if you can call a large duffel bag luggage, with a little difficulty. Wilson walked over and got it out for him. House nodded in acknowledgement, thanking him for the help he needed but just didn't want to ask for. Then again, that was House.

House shut the trunk and reached for his bag in Wilson's hand. Wilson dodged his move and headed up the driveway to the walkway. House looked up to the sky and sighed as soon as he saw the gloomy gray above. He rubbed his leg as he tried to catch up to Wilson's faster pace.

"It's not a marathon you know. It's not like she's one of your dying cancer patients who desperately needs your sympathies!" House bantered.

"I always have to make up for your lack of bedside manners. It's our symbiotic emotional relationship. You don't give. I give twice as much. Fair, right?" He turned around to smirk at him. Wilson got to the door and waited for House to get to the door.

House noticed a bit of impatience in Wilson as he was making his way to the doorstep. Then, purposefully, he slowed his pace, which he had been doing subconsciously anyways cause today's base level was about a 6, but the fact that it had many levels of pleasure to pull from made him all the more apt to do it.

Wilson sighed as he looked down at his watch. "So, you'll be getting to the door in this century, right?"

"Maybe." He replied as he made his way passed the pink flamingo near the end of the walk. He edged onto the doorstep and smiled at Wilson. "How about we go get good and drunk instead? And you can throw a bottle through a glass pane window! C'mon, that sounds way more fun than this."

Wilson pressed the doorbell. "But this will help you more in the long run." The one thing House could never back away from was his friend's logic. He nodded in submission and straightened up his stance as to not look in pain.

The door opened. "Greg." She motioned for him to lean down. Complying moved in towards her open arms and she swept him up into the best hug she could give him. He barely slid his left arm around her shoulders. Maybe this would be good for him.

"Hi mom."


End file.
